


Golden Syrup

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Critical Role: Wildemount Campaign (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 15:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13484739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: After the fight against the zombies, Jester gives Beau her thanks. Set during Episode 3's long rest.





	Golden Syrup

Jester is a little quiet when they get back in the room.

They haven't known each other quite long enough for Beau to figure out all of the cleric's quirks, but quiet is rare, taking the shine off Jester's smile. The reason is clear as the water flowing over the tiefling's hands as she squeezes out a rag above their shared basin, twisting the threadbare towel back on itself. Mollymauk's blood was washed off Jester's hands five minutes ago and counting, but she still seems lost in thought.

She's started humming to herself, at least. That's better than the silence, and Beau stretches on the bed to the jaunty tune, although it's more about killing time than keeping herself flexible. Both of them should be asleep, but the adrenaline of the fight hasn't died down yet, hanging on like the embers and ash that linger on their clothes.

"I didn't mean it, you know," Beau finally says out loud. Guilt burns in her chest like bad wine, and she's not a fan of either one. "About being the cleric with Molly. If you had a spell, you would have healed him. That's obvious."

Jester pauses, then drops the rag into the basin with a laugh. "I'm not mad, if that's what you think. Just...thoughtful."

"Thoughtful?" Unhooking one leg from the other, Beau frowns. "About what?"

"Whether or not I should do a sketch of Molly." Jester taps a finger under her chin, grin taking on a wicked edge. "He is a bit vain, though, no? Maybe he wouldn't like me drawing his face as such a mess."

"He's a blood hunter, though." Beau counters, happy to see that glint of sharp teeth. "It'll be, uh, aesthetic."

"Oooh!" The cleric's glee is contagious as both hands dart into her bag, tossing out her sketchbook and a stolen piece of charcoal. "I don't have any red, but I'll make do."

It's really something, watching Jester draw with one hand and eat a snack with the other, dexterous fingers sketching sweeping lines across roughened paper. Sugar glistens on her lower lip, but she's too focused to even lick it away.

Beau makes herself look elsewhere, wondering if there's something else to be done to mend her staff. Putting out the candles would be rude, even if those violet eyes can see in the dark, but she's half-tempted to curl up under the sheets and pretend to sleep anyway.

The whisper of footsteps goes unheard until Jester plants a messy kiss on her cheek, warm and sweet and oh so sudden. Beau nearly jumps out of her own skin, but hesitates just long enough for a blush to take the place of reflex.

"Thank you for the healing kit, Beau," Jester whispers, breath hot against her skin.

"Y-you're welcome." It chokes low out of Beau's throat, but the words are enough loud to be heard  - probably. She's not used to compliments, especially from a woman like Jester.

As if nothing had happened at all, the cleric returns to her side of the room, curling back around the sketchbook like a lanky cat. Beau swallows hard, counts to ten, and decides the best thing she can do is feign unconsciousness. It's gotten her out of plenty of trouble before, especially when it comes to stray bar tabs.

She can't sleep, but a while later the candles are blown out by a wiggle of the windows, and Beau can hear the shift of sheets as Jester settles in. An idea comes to mind, and Beau grins to herself.

"Hey, Jester." The cleric's curious _mm_ is response enough, and she follows it up with, "You going to flash those Crownsguard tomorrow if they show up?"

Jester's giggle is musical, a thousand tinkling charms. "Oh, yes. Very much yes."

 _Good_ , Beau thinks, and lets her eyes fall closed.  



End file.
